Chipped Polish & Wornout Jeans

I know that I will be too busy to blog tomorrow since I'm having a girl's day out with Mama during the day and then I'm going to be at MTSU judging mock trial tomorrow night. However, I really wanted to do this post because it is really important to me and I'm trying to make this blog worth what visits it gets. Tomorrow is To Write Love on Her Arms day, and if you don't know what that is click this link right here: TWLOHA. It's a movement about self love and the prevention of self injury and suicide; it's about fighting addiction and depression and  And it's personal for me for a reason I will get to in a moment. So tomorrow on the inside of my left wrist in small black letters you will find the word love; I'd do it a little bigger but there is a need for me to look at least semi-professional and presentable at the tournament.

I said that for me TWLOHA is personal. That's because when I was a sophomore in college, which seems so long ago, I lost a good friend to suicide; it's something that I will never really forget. That phone call from a friend who was like a brother, hearing his voice shake as he tried to tell me the news, the tears I could hear over the phone, they are as clear to me as that night I got the midnight message. I can still feel the shock, the pain, the confusion, and the loss like it happened yesterday. The scream in my head was that this was some sick joke, that it could never happen to one of us. We were invincible, all powerful, untouchable, blessed. Our diverse group had seen enough damage, emotional baggage, and hurt. But in the end that stuff just seemed so petty and minor. Who gave a damn about break ups, hang ups, and stupid fights? He was dead, and we couldn't bring him back. We'd broken the one thing we'd promised as people began graduating and moving. To always be there; to never let anything happen to us. I can still remember the funeral, the tears running down my cheeks, the sudden realization of my own mortality, the way the wind cut through my sweater as I stood beside my friends watching the casket lower into the ground, and the way we all tried not to fall to pieces. It was not the first time that I knew someone who had committed suicide, but it was the first time it was so close to me. I remember thinking: "God, why did You let this happen? Why take him from us? Why didn't You stop him? Why didn't You give us some kind of sign that he needed us?" And I remember blaming myself for not noticing, for letting our little group of friends fall apart just because we were no longer having lunch all together and meeting up as often, for being too wrapped up in the drama and insanity of my own life. I remember wondering most of all: Why he felt there was no other answer, why he thought that it was the only way, why he hadn't come to me or to any one of our group? Did he think we didn't care, that we wouldn't drop everything to save him, that we wouldn't listen, that we could not do anything? He was supposed to be the sane one, and he had been our rock when we needed him. He'd talked us through so many hard times. He'd kept us together. I remember feeling as though we'd failed him, though I knew that we hadn't really. We'd loved him, and we hadn't known he was in trouble. I still wonder what life would be like had we known something and been able to save him. Would our little group have stayed together instead of scattering to the winds? I don't know, but I do know that I will always miss him and always wish that something had saved him. I remember him because he was my friend, because he was my brother, and because I loved him like a brother.

So I write love on my arm for Nathan, who saw no other option, for the friends we've all lost, and the one's we will try to save. I write love on my arm and whisper a prayer for those who need help. I ask God to send an angel to those people who are lost and searching for an answer. I write love on my arm because my life matters and so does everyone else's. I write love on my arm because we are all in this together and because you never know when you will turn the corner and find someone in need. I write love on my arm in memory of those who have gone and those who are saved. I write love on my arm for everyone out there.